


the only time i'd call you mine

by katyfaise



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Fluff and Angst, nothing really graphic, rated m to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or five ways faye valentine shows that she loves him</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only time i'd call you mine

i.

it’s in the way the bullets reverberate off the metal of the bebop.

she watches as he walks away - wonders if she’ll ever see him again. what will she do without that lanky cowboy who drives her absolutely insane? she knows, logically, that she’ll go on with her life - that she’ll live and continue on without him regardless. but there’s already an ache in her heart that she doesn’t think she’ll ever recover from. faye’s done everything in her power to stop him but he has a mission that he’s dedicated to.

_damn his unfinished business_ , she thinks, angry, hot tears falling from her eyes. she wipes her face with the back of her hand and her knees give out. when she hits the floor beneath her, she clutches the gun against her chest and cries silently, damning the man that caused this. she doesn’t want to feel these things for him, doesn’t want to have her heart stomped on by a man that can’t let go of his past.

but it’s too late and she accepts that their fate is sealed. who was she to fall in love with him anyway?

ii.

she watches as he sleeps for days, his stomach riddled with injuries and wrapped up with bandages that are starting to seep through. despite jet offering to take up her vigil, she sits beside him still and waits patiently, always on the edge of her seat as she watches his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths.

faye waits for him in silence and ignores how he calls out that woman’s name in his sleep, that devastating angel - it’s just another way she shows her feelings.

when he finally wakes, faye is at his side immediately, playing nurse even though he insists that he is fine. he tries to walk, his legs fail, and faye catches him. he tries to eat, his hands shake, and faye helps feed him. it’s an act of devotion that she hopes he understands, even though she doesn’t fully understand it herself.

he slowly becomes more and more like the spike that she knows and he sits on the edge of the couch and she catches him staring at her as she plays solitaire.

“what?” she asks, trying her best not to read too much into how he stares at her. instead she counts her breaths and tries not to stare back.

“thanks,” he says simply, absently rubbing the spot beneath his shirt where the bandages are still wrapped around him.

“i’m glad you’re alright,” faye tells him and spike nods in response. she really doesn’t know if he’s truly alright, but he’s alive and he’s with her and that’s all that matters to her right now.

iii.

“you damn idiot!” she says, a groan leaving her lips.

she watches him from her vantage point on the roof, her hands folded into fists so tight that her nails threaten to break her skin. he’s thrown the plan away and chased after a bounty without her. they have a plan for a reason - the guy they’re after is dangerous and prone to use throwable explosives in his wake. they’d both laid everything out perfectly and now he’s gone off book.

if the bounty doesn’t kill him first then she’ll do it her damn self once she gets her hands on him.

faye runs down the fire escape, careful not to trip and fall as she jumps down to the alley way. it’s been raining on ganymede for three days straight and today is no different. she wipes her eyes as she runs, hoping to whatever god exists that she’s not too late.

she runs along the sidewalks, pushing people out of her way as she heads in the direction she’d seen them last. when she turns into a side alley, her eyes land on a dead end and spike slumped against a wall. he’s nowhere near healthy enough for a fight, and if she could yell at him she would. but the bounty kicks him hard in his ribs and a mixture of anger and worry wells up inside of her.

the gun rings out around them and the man falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

faye’s hands shake as she stands quietly for the moment, the smoke still rising from the barrel of her glock. she takes a moment to survey the scene around her and she realizes suddenly that she’s blown the bounty.

she realizes even quicker that she doesn’t care.

“you goddamn lunkhead,” she scolds, running to spike’s side and kneeling down beside him.

“why’d you shoot him, faye?” he asks, his voice rising as he tries and fails to stand up on his own, still holding onto the side where he’d been kicked. “he was worth five mil!” he’s angry and she knows it but she was angry first. she swallows it down though and ignores his question, instead helping him stand. before they leave the alley she glances at the dead body and sighs - shakes her head because she didn’t hesitate for one moment to kill the man that threatened spike spiegel.

god, she’s so predictable.

iv.

she sighs when he touches her, little bits of noise leaving her lips while his fingers trail down her body and touch her in ways she’s only imagined.

it seems only natural that he ends up in her bed night after night as they learn each other’s bodies. he learns that if he kisses right below her navel that she giggles, because she’s ticklish there and he learns that he loves to hear the sound of her laugh. faye learns that when she kisses him on the spot right beneath his ear that his fingers grasp her hips tighter and he breathes out slowly as he tries to fight his arousal.

spike whispers between her legs, his tongue spelling out sonnets and prayers against her that faye had no idea he knew. her body moves of its own accord, back arching and toes curling while he kisses and sucks and brings her over the edge of pleasure over and over again until she fears she’ll never be able to recover. faye holds him tight, her fingers digging into his shoulders, while he watches her hover over him with wide eyes. he touches her body reverently and faye sighs into his mouth and chases a kiss and the feel of that talented tongue against her neck.

when they fuck (because faye refuses to call it anything as cliched as _making love_ ), she doesn’t know how to form the words that need to be said between them. instead she leaves marks on his collarbone and he returns with bruises against her thighs. she tells him _harder, faster, deeper, don’t stop,_ and he follows each of her commands dutifully. faye says everything but what she wants to say and somehow it’s enough for the both of them.

v.

“i love you. you know that, right?” she asks, no pretense to her words.

her head rests against his chest and his arm is over her shoulders as they lounge on the couch - some old movie playing on the screen before them. he tenses slightly, and faye pretends that it’s not because of what she says. she wants to take the words back as soon as they leave her mouth but it’s too late now.

she expects him to shift uncomfortably beneath her. maybe to push her away and stand up and leave on the swordfish and never come back. it makes more sense for her words to lead to a punishment than a reward because those words hold so much weight. they might share a bed, might share something of a life with each other, but it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to emotions.

sharing emotions is a whole new ballgame for the two of them.

what she doesn’t expect is how spike puts his feet up on the coffee table and pulls her closer. he kisses the top of her head and his lithe fingers trail up and down her arm in a lazy fashion. faye looks up at him and his face hasn’t changed - doesn’t show one trace of fear or regret or anger. he catches her eyes and he smiles that lopsided grin that makes her belly turn into knots.

“i know you do,” he responds finally, and his attention returns to the old western in front of them.

it’s not what she expects at all, but it’s enough. maybe he’ll never say it to her, and faye figures that it’s okay as long as she has him. she can love hard enough for the both of them.

the hero dies on the screen before them, shot to death in the middle of the dusty town.

faye closes her eyes and cuddles closer to spike, her arm draped along his middle as she relaxes against him.

she hates westerns.


End file.
